Rating: PG-13, and that's only because they implied that they spent the afternoon humping each other.

Summary: Some patterns emerge about Vegas...and some progress on the bridesmaid dresses.

Spoilers: Nope.
 

"Sometimes I feel like I can't even sing
I'm very scared for this world, very scared for me..."

"You Are the Everything" by Michael Stipe. Copyright 1989 by Athens-REM Ltd. And used without permission.
 

Dulce Bellum Inexpertis
 

March 7, 2000

I always enjoy getting waterlogged with Langly. We stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out and we were both pruny and spent.

My man is a water baby. I like that about him. I'm going to have to teach him to sail someday. I think he'd like it, although it's pretty hard to make love on a sailboat that's out on the water.

We went out to the offices, and Frohike and Michael were already attacking our project.

"Don't you two look happy," Frohike observed gruffly. Okay, we deserved it. We were all pink and glowy and had that we're-so-damn-satisfied look.

Michael just glared at us. He was in one of his surly moods, which was pretty normal.

"Need the car keys tonight?" I asked Michael. As part of our agreement for his hacking into Langly's files to get Joan's address, I had offered use of my car on Saturday night for a month, and I still owed him time.

"She bailed on me," Michael growled.

"I'm sorry," I said simply. "How's it going on this?"

"Well, let's see," Frohike peered into his screen. "Out of 3,512 records, we've gotten through 2, 708, and I'm starting to see some patterns emerge here."

"Cool." Langly sat down on his workstation.

"Langly, do you mind, what do you think chairs are for?" Frohike looked up at him sharply.

"Oh." He moved his ergo chair over to Frohike's, and I decided I'd sit in his lap; he could see over my head. Frohike shook his head. "Can't you two keep your hands off each other for five minutes?"

"Not when the kiddies aren't home. Whaddya got?" Langly angled his head to stare into Frohike's screen. "D'you know, my sister was here?"

"What?" Frohike spun around to stare at us. "Your older sister? The one you haven't seen in years?"

"Only one I know about. Yeah, she was here. Ally got in touch with her, and she's gonna be in our wedding, and she's dumping that bastard husband of hers." Apparently he'd decided she was going to do this; I hoped she was going to able to follow suit.

"And how is-you said her name was Joan?"

"Joanie, yeah. Joanie's-Joanie's not so good. But she'll be okay."

"Yeah, right, and you're gonna make it that way," Michael growled from behind where he was working.

"Michael." Frohike fired a warning shot. Michael muttered something inaudible and then shut up. "What do you mean, not so good? Is she ill?"

"Just sick of living with her creep of a husband."

"Are we talking about a DV situation?" Frohike looked very concerned.

"Could be. I think so. I never saw him hit her, but like when I was in high school, a couple times, it was really hot like in the summer, and she'd have long sleeves on and everything, wouldn't take her sunglasses off in the house, stuff like that." Langly shifted me around so that he could get comfortable-and if he kept this up, I was going to have to drag him back in the house and get him naked again. Which, by the way, is never a bad thing...

"He's abusing her emotionally." Frohike said it softly.

"Duh, yeah! She's a wreck. You oughta see her, she's only like 52, looks older than you, Frohike." Frohike glared at him.

"I thought she was quite attractive," I commented.

"Yeah, I mean, Joanie's pretty and all, but you can see it in her face, she's had it hard. Don't care how rich she is, and she's pretty rich. Wasn't worth it."

"Langly, she has to decide if it's worth it or not." I spoke gently to him, just to keep him grounded in reality, which he's been know to take leave of if he gets an idea.

"What can I do?" Frohike inquired solicitously.

"Know any good divorce lawyers?" Langly asked.

"Actually, I do. Not from my own experience...but I do have some...acquaintances of sorts." Frohike switched from the current screen to a new one. "Let's see. You remember Garrett Gray, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"He's here in the area now. His live-in lady does family law. Her name is...just a moment...Jill Wasserman." He printed out a name and telephone number. "Langly. Let her make the call. I mean it." Frohike looked directly at him. "I know you're trying to do right by her and all, but be careful. This is probably going to take some time. And if her husband is the way you perceive him to be...you could put her in danger. And yourself. So watch it."

"I'm bigger than he is," Langly protested.

"Langly, I don't know if you're aware of it, but the most dangerous time for a woman in a DV situation is right after she leaves her husband. That's the time she's most likely to be injured or killed. Just keep it in mind." He switched gears. "Was Byers here at all today?"

"Yep, he went shopping with the ladies, though."

"Why? He doesn't need a dress...oh, you wanted him to stay with Joan."

"Yeah, figured he'd look less conspicuous than me...me and Joanie, we kind of look alike, and her friends, they'd get back to her husband and all-"

"And it will look better if she's with a man she's not related to?" Frohike asked sharply.

"Hey, he's got red hair, he can be Scully's brother."

"Whatever."

"She'll be here for dinner. You staying?" I asked him.

"If it's no trouble."

"Frohike, get real." I turned to Michael. "You, too. I'll even make Chicken Cacciatore." He'd responded positively when I'd made it the last time, both verbally and in terms of total consumption.

"Fine," was as much assent as I was going to get. Well, it hardly rivaled a date.

"So whaddya see?" Langly asked impatiently.

"Okay. In certain areas of the hotel-now this is if I remember Caesar's correctly, I know they've done some remodeling-certain numeric combinations correspond. The first string corresponds directly to the wing of the hotel, and floor numbers seem to correspond to them as well. Now it gets tricky. The alphanumeric string seems to be more random. According to this, Langly, you stayed on the eighth floor.

"Yeah, Ally and me, we both did."

"I assumed that," Frohike retorted dryly. "Byers was on the 7th floor."

"What about my brother?" I demanded. I still hadn't received a return call from Anne, and I was growing a bit anxious. Maybe she'd gotten my e-scream and heeded it.

"What was his name?"

"Jason Rausch."

"Let's see...Ramirez, Raskin, Rausch. Jason Rausch was on the 5th floor. And all of these rooms appear to face poolside, if I remember the floorplan correctly."

"How about Skulk?" Langly asked eagerly.

"I need a real name," Frohike reminded him.

"Richard Schonholz. S-c-h-o-n-h-o-l-z."

"Let's see. Richard Schonholz, 7th floor. Two rooms over from Byers."

"Shit." Langly looked alarmed.

"Michael, did you stay at the hotel?" I asked him.

"Yeah, like I can afford Caesar's Palace. Not. I stayed with some friends in Henderson." He continued digging through his data. Frohike looked enormously relieved.

"Langly, I think we should start looking into people we know, e-mail them, see what's happening with them. I know a lot of these people, and so do you. I think that would be the prudent thing to do."

"Where did Julie stay?" I reminded them that Juliet had been part of the party.

"Juliet Parker stayed...on the 5th floor. Down the hall from Jason."

Julie didn't get that sick. I prayed that if anything had happened to us in the hotel, that Jason's floor number would be his salvation.

"It may be that the hotel has nothing to do with this, " Frohike warned. "But it's a place to start. And there is a pattern here. I suggest we explore it."

"Whaddya think I'm doing over here? Playing with myself?" Michael demanded.

"Michael. Watch your mouth. We do have a lady present." His father's warning was stern.

Keys turned in the door; had to be Byers, since no one else had keys. And it was, a very exhausted, pale, gaunt-looking Byers. He dropped into the nearest chair.

"You find a dress?" Langly teased.

Byers threw him a savage glance. "Langly. Don't. Ever. Do. That. To. Me. Again."

"Why, Joanie beat you up?"

"Langly, if I ever have to spend an afternoon with five women, shopping for bridesmaid dresses-" He closed his eyes and leaned back. "I've had some horrifying experiences, but I think this tops them all."

"Joanie inside?" Langly pushed me up.

"Yes, she's with Miranda and Shelby."

"Any success?" I asked hopefully.

"Well, they decided on a color. After much heated debate." He started to slowly get up from where he was sitting. "I have work to do."

"No, you don't," Frohike said severely. "You need to lie down, is what you need to do."

Byers was completely spent; he didn't argue. I took him by the arm.

"C'mon, dude, you can lie down in our bed," Langly urged. "Quiet back there. Then Ally'll try and fatten you up." He took Byers's other arm. "Really appreciate you going with my sister and all, y'know."

"Langly...and I thought we were paranoid."
 

A very weary Byers sank on to our bed on top of the comforter. I took the spare blanket from the end of the bed and tucked it around his shoulders. He sank off to sleep almost immediately.

Langly, Joan, Miranda and Shelby had taken over the kitchen. Why does everyone end up in the kitchen at this house, I wondered to myself. It's the smallest room in the place.

Joan looked nervous, haggard. A day out with the screamers hadn't calmed her much. Of course, two of them were Miranda and Shelby, and this being Miranda's pet project and all, I had to believe she had a hissy fit or two in the process.

"We picked a color," Shelby announced triumphantly, as if she'd overcome great obstacles to arrive at this point. For all I knew, she had.

"Yeah, it's somewhere between jade and teal. Now we have to find a place that'll get us all dresses we like in that color," Miranda clarified. "I think we should all get the same fabric."

"Not gonna work for all the dresses," Shelby warned.

"No, I think everyone should go with the cotton sateen," Miranda spoke decisively.

"Ellen was really grooving on the watered silk, though," Shelby pointed out.

"Watered silk won't work for the style I want," Miranda protested. No wonder Byers was exhausted.

"Dana liked the satin," was Shelby's input.

"Totally ridiculous," was Miranda's assessment. "Too heavy. And uncomfortable. Aunt Joan, which one'd you like?"

"Any...of them will be fine, Miranda." She was used to not offending. I knew that one well.

"No, which one did you like?" Miranda pressed. "C'mon, feed me!"

"Seriously, any of them will be fine." Joan really didn't want to get into it.

"Joanie, when that animal says feed her, you'd better. She bites," Langly warned.

"Excuse me, nutcase, who asked you?" Miranda shot at him. He put up his hands in a gesture of total surrender.

Joan looked as if she were being backed into a corner. "Well...there was a washable silk I liked a lot."

"I didn't see that one," Miranda mentioned. "Did you say anything?"

"No, I figured, the bride is your mother, you should get what you think she'd like."

"Oh, please! Leave it up to my mom and we'd all show up in Birkenstocks and broomstick skirts!" Miranda rolled her eyes. "In case you didn't notice, my mom is totally fashion-challenged."

"I think your mother is a very pretty woman," Joan said simply.

"Didn't say she wasn't. She just has no clue how to dress."

"Thank you, Miranda. Now don't you girls have trouble you can cause elsewhere?" I gave her and Shelby a Mom Look, and they split.
 

When they'd gone back to the dungeon, I asked Joan, "Wasn't that fun?"

"She is a very...spirited young lady."

"That, and a lot of other things. You want a beer, Joan?"

"I'm sorry, I don't drink."

"Well, we do have a few things that don't have alcohol in them. Not many, mind you, but we do have underage kids here."

"Some of the tea you made this morning. If it's no trouble."

"It's not." I popped a cup of water into the microwave, and opened two Coronas for Langly and me.

"Do we have limes?" he whined.

"We have limes. And salt."

"Cool."

"Langly, I have to start dinner, why don't you take Joan in the living room so I can have some room to move?" He tapped his sister on the elbow, and they moved out of my way.

"Do you need some help?" Joan offered as they moved out of the room.

"Yes, everyone will help me by getting out of my way!"
 

I was enjoying the smell of chicken, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms and bell peppers coming together as I tossed some salad together. I was about to start on some of the garlic bread Langly loved when the fucking phone rang.

"Ally, it's Anne."

"You get my e-scream?"

"Yeah, I did." Her normally calm voice had gotten edgy. "What do you mean, get Jason checked out? He's got the flu."

"Uh...maybe he does, and maybe he doesn't. I'm serious about this, Anne. Something happened to a bunch of us who went to Vegas last summer. We've all gotten really sick."

"Oh, God, are you all okay now?"

"Getting there. Look, I'm not kidding. And have his physician call Dr. Lu Ying" -- I dug for her phone number in my purse-"at this number in DC. She's at George Washington University Medical Center. Anne, I'm not trying to freak you out...but we think some people may have died from this."

"You're kidding."

"Not. Wish I was."

"Okay, I'll get Jason moving. At least I have some time before it gets busy at work." She paused. "Did you know anyone...whom you think might have died?"

"One."

"Shit. Okay, I'm moving, Ally."

"Call me when you find something out, Annie."

"I will." She clicked off without saying goodbye.
 

Garlic bread went into production, and we were approaching the final half-hour before serving would take place. I began pulling dishes from the cabinets when the phone rang-again. Anne couldn't be calling this soon, I hoped.

"Ally! It's Julie!" A strained, teary-sounding woman who only had a voice vaguely resembling that of Juliet Parker was sounding very far away.

"Julie? Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right!" She began to cry afresh. "Oh, God, I know I sound like an idiot, but John wouldn't happen to be there, would he? Frohike said he was in the house. I tried him at home and at the office-"

"He's here. I'll get him. He's down in our room, though, so it's going to take a couple minutes."

I padded down the hallway past where Langly and Joan were deep in discussion. I'd no doubt catch the skinny later on it.

Byers was sound asleep in our bed, looking about ten years old. Long lashes draped over the hollow cheeks. He was as white as the down comforter. I hated to wake him, but...

"John." I tapped him gently. I tapped him again. "John." I raised the volume on my voice a little.

He rolled over, blinking. "Huh?"

"John, you have a phone call."

"A what?" He'd been sleeping heavily.

"You have a phone call. And I think you want to take it." I handed him the cordless.

And although my curiosity was killing me, I shut the door.
 

Dinner was ready, and I went to knock on the door of our room.

Byers stuck his head out, cordless still attached to one ear, hand over the microphone. "Uh-if you don't mind, this is rather important."

"I'll save you a plate," I said and turned back towards the noisy assemblage in the dining room.

"Want another beer, Ally?" Langly decided to show his sister that he could have manners when he chose to. I took advantage of the situation and assented.

"Get me one," Michael demanded.

"Michael, please and thank you work wonders," Frohike reminded him. "As always, my dear, this smells delicious."

"Where's Jo this weekend?" I hadn't spoken much with her during the week.

"At a rehab conference."

"So who's the better cook?" Langly teased him.

"Whoever is cooking that night," Frohike said diplomatically.

"Aunt Joan, sit over here," Miranda ordered the older woman to sit by her.

"Is it all right to sit there?"

"It's not like we have assigned seats or anything," Shelby assured her. "Though Al'son likes the end of the table 'cause it's close to the kitchen. But anyplace else is cool."

"Hey, don't I get to sit next to my sister?" Langly demanded.

"Not tonight you don't," Miranda seemed to have struck an odd kinship with this older, very conservative, tense woman. She turned to Joan. "Was he always such a brat?"

This seemed to amuse Joan, and we all settled in for a night of embarrassing childhood Langly stories...

END OF PART 73